Never again
by Crazycatscarmen
Summary: Escape was something Stanley never imagined for himself. Tw: Child abuse. Or: Stan and Ford pines escape the wrath of Fibrick. At Ford's insistence.
1. Guilt

**Tw: Child abuse.  
**

* * *

Ford wasn't sure exactly what happened, but it was definitely bad. Stan was snuggled up against his side, quietly sobbing.

He pulled his fingers through his brother's hair, whispering silly comforts under his breath so their parents wouldn't hear.

All Ford knew was that he had been sleeping and suddenly he was awake with a very sad Stanley.

It was all pretty disconcerting, considering it was usually the other way around. Ford got nightmares fairly often and usually removed himself from his own bed to join Stan on the bottom bunk, but there were rare nights where Stan would be so upset for whatever reason that he would battle his fear of heights to be with Ford. The first time it happened, Ford had been so surprised, he rolled off the bed, Stanley in tow. They had fallen to the floor, Stan still crying, but laughing as well, pointing at Ford's shocked facial expression.

As the years rolled on, it got more and more common.

That is until it just _stopped._

Ford had tried asking why Stan was upset, but he never answered. Eventually, Ford gave up, never noticing anything out of the ordinary or even a pattern as to why these nights occurred, but when they all of a sudden, _ended_ is when he got really concerned.

Sure they were getting older, but Ford wasn't ever going to be too old for his own brother, would he? It wasn't like anyone but them knew about it anyway, so what was the big deal? He was positive he'd heard harsh, quieted sobs emanating from the lower bunk, so why didn't Stanley reach out anymore? Ford tried going to his brother, the first time he'd heard him sob alone from his bed, but Stan faked sleep, and Ford didn't see any tears to prove what he was hearing wasn't just his imagination, so he went back to his bunk and fell asleep, albeit, after staring at the ceiling for hours on end.

He knew something was wrong, he just didn't know what it _was_.

The worst day of his life is when he found out.

They were both sixteen. Stan rolled into bed after hours, probably think Ford was asleep.

Stanley never cried anymore, but Ford could still hear the pain in his brother's breaths.

"Stanley, what's wrong?"

He heard Stan jumped when he spoke, despite his voice being so soft. Stan grunted,

"Nothin'. Go to sleep."

Ford stuck his head from over the railing to look at his twin, "No. Not until you tell me what's going on. What's been going on for the last...last...Stanley, what is that?" Ford pointed to his arm, where a deep purple and blue were sticking out from underneath his t-shirt. Stan hurriedly pulled his sleeve down, eyes wide.

"Nothing, I told ya."

Ford rolled off his bed, landing on the floor with a _thump!_ Stan winced but didn't say anything or move when Ford grabbed his elbow and forced his short sleeve up past his shoulder. He gasped.

It was entirely bruised, black, blue and purple making a terrifying mosaic on his brother's shoulder. Ford could feel the blood rush out of his face. His mouth set in a grim line,

"Where did this come from? Are their more?"

No answer.

"Stanley so help me I will check myself if you don't show me."

A red face. Reluctant compliance. Stan lifted the corner of his shirt slightly to reveal even more extensive bruising on his belly. He let it fall, unwilling to show the extent of the damage.

So that's why Stanley never took his shirt off during boxing practice anymore.

Ford, aware that Stan's entire top half was probably layered in bruises, let go of his arms and sat next to him, trying to get Stan to look him in the eyes. "Stanley...this wasn't from boxing practice. What if you have a broken rib?! Where did these come from?" Ford begged Stanley to tell him. He needed to know.

Ford saw his twin's face drawn in resignation. Stan turned away.

 _No! I won't let this stand anymore._ "Stanley, _tell me,_ " Ford demanded.

Stan, still looking away, mumbled something that sounded like 'accident.'

 _Oh Heck no!_ "Stanley, don't give me bullcrap like that," Stan turned around in surprise. Ford raised his eyebrows, "yeah, I'm being serious. Tell me what's going on or I swear..." He trailed off, letting the threat of 'or else' hang in the air.

Stan, without any warning, burrowed himself into Ford's side. Ford let his arms wrap around Stan naturally, but made sure to be light, as not to agitate the bruises too much. Ford, before he could say anything, heard one word. A harsh, deep, yet quiet whisper that turned his entire world upon its head.

" _Dad."_

His heart quit beating. His brain stopped working. The entire earth ceased spinning. He had only one question.

 _"WHAT?"_ Ford hissed, his face worked into a sneer full of anger that Stan didn't think he was capable of feeling. Ford glared at the door as if Filbrick were about to walk in and he wanted him to feel the full force of his righteous rage.

It was sad because he could believe it.

Filbrick had never physically threatened Ford. No, that must have been all on Stan. Stan the worthless spare. Stan the extra grunt that no one wanted. He knew what Filbrick thought of his twin. He just never imagined...

oh, but it was so easy. So easy to see his robot of a father beating on his brother. Telling him to man up. To do something with his life. It was too _freaking_ easy.

His anger dissolved into sorrow however when he was struck with a realization.

How had he never noticed? How could he have...and Stan...but he never...Ford felt hot salt water boiling beneath his eyelids and he didn't fight them as they spilled over. And then it was suddenly Stan comforting _Ford_ and gosh, why did he have to be such a cry-baby? Stan was living with bone breaking bruises and barely seemed to notice and it was all his fault, wasn't it? Wasn't it? How didn't he notice and Stanley I'm sorry, I'm so sor-

"We're leaving."

Stan stared, wide-eyed at his brother, who was suddenly moving around the room hurriedly, throwing things in both of their boxing bags. "Uh-What?" Stan's voice was choked and dry from all the high run emotion, even though Ford was the one who was crying. Ford gave him a glance of desperation. "And we're taking mom with us."

"What? Ford- I'm fine, it's fine. He doesn't hurt mom, or you or Shermie, just...just me. I swear, it's fine. I can handle it." Stan grabbed Ford's wrists even though it must have hurt like hades to move at all.

Ford peered into Stan's knowing eyes, filled with fear and regret. "No. No, who's to say he won't hurt them in the future?" Ford asked logically, "After we move out?" Ford tugged his hands away and continued filling the bag. "No, I'm right. Were leaving. And bringing all the money with us, that dirty hoarder." Ford stuck the last thing he thought they needed into his bag and zipped them both up. He hefted them on each shoulder, ignoring it when Stan tried to take at least one.

"No. You're injured, and like heck, I'm I gonna ever see you like that again Stanley. Don't you dare think otherwise! This is over. Were leaving, and calling the police." He added, almost as an afterthought.

"Go wake up mom. Does she know?" Stan shook his head, and Ford's face fell further. _No one knew...no one at all?_

"Well then go tell her. Don't leave anything out. Make sure she brings a bag."

Stan brought up the only flaw in his plan, as usual, "And what if she doesn't want to leave?" Stan asked, realizing he couldn't persuade his brother to stay.

Ford looked at him long and hard. "She will."

"How do you know?"

"Because she loves you, Ley." Ford turned away and walked out, stepping quietly. Stan took a moment to mull things over before going to fetch his mom.

 _Well that escalated quickly.  
_

* * *

 **Yay! Abused Stan au. You're welcome. Never mind I am terribly sorry...no no no! Don't be sad, please, have some cake. *hands you cake*.**


	2. Anger

**I apologize for making you all cry like that. It WAS the point, but still. Anyway, on with the fic:**

 **Gigi is what I call Stan and Ford's mom.  
**

* * *

Gigi couldn't believe it.

She had been sleeping peacefully on her bed, Filbrick hadn't come to bed yet when Stan walked in. She turned to the door. "Hm?" She asked sleepily, "Filbrick, is that you?"

Stan flinched, but she couldn't see it. "No ma. It's me, Stanley."

She sat up a bit and squinted at the light coming from the doorway to see her son standing there. Her brow furrowed, "What are ya doin' outta bed, baby? What's wrong?" She couldn't remember the last time one of her kids came to her in the middle of the night, for anything.

Stan swallowed and warned her to protect her eyes- he was going to turn on the light. She squeezed them shut for a moment and blinked rapidly when they opened, her eyes having trouble adjusting to the light. When they did she gave Stanley a searching glance. He seemed nervous, which was unnerving. Her little free spirit was never _nervous_.

He took a deep breath. "Mom. Ford and I are leavin'."

She shot up, "What!? What do ya mean leavin'?!"

He shushed her, "Shh! I-I have somethin' ta tell ya." He looked away with a sigh, then seemed to steel himself up to do something. She watched as he swiftly pulled off his shirt.

She gasped, shock making her grow still.

Her baby was _covered_ in _bruises._ Dark, nasty bruises that were swelling horribly. They enveloped his entire torso. She felt tears prick at her eyes, her voice raspy with emotion, "Stanley! What happened-"

"Dad. Mom, Ford wants us to leave. He-he found out tonight. I couldn't hide it anymore..." She heard him mumble something that sounded like, 'Pathetic.'

She practically leaped out of bed, nearly tripping over her night-gown. She wanted to pull him into a hug but realized that would be counter-productive. She was still in shock, but she knew one thing.

Nothing hurt her babies.

She put her hand under his chin and lifted up his face. Stanley was so self-deprecating. He tried to hide it but you can't con the con-woman who raised you. _Well,_ she thought, _I guess he technically did, although I wish it hadn't been like this..._ She smiled sadly at him. He looked agonized- and she was sure it wasn't the bruises that bothered him.

"It's going to be okay, baby. I promise." She kissed his nose lightly and told him to scram. She needed to pack a bag. Oh, and find her shotgun.

He looked torn for a moment, but left, quickly putting his shirt back on as he stepped into the hallway, eyes flitting around nervously. Her poor baby, he must be in agony. She felt a stab of guilt. How did she miss it?

Her guilt swiftly turned to anger. This wasn't going to stand.

* * *

 **You feel a bit better? Yeah? PLEASE? I TRIED SO HARD. *edit: Fantasy Magic pointed out that technically Gigi was 'conned' so I added her thoughts to make it a bit less contradictory.**


	3. Resignation

**A little clarification before we get going: Stan only mentioned Shermie because of whatever, Shermie had already moved out by then. He's an older brother in this au. (*starts clapping because they did.* oh my gosh thank you, random guest!)  
**

* * *

Stan felt _awful_.

And it wasn't the pain that bothered him. No one was supposed to find out! He should've done better, and now all of them were running out of the only home he'd known, all because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Stan, Ford, and Ma all snuck very quietly out of the house. Filbrick was assumably in his office, which was the only place he ever seemed to be other than the shop. Always about the money.

Stan saw that Ma didn't leave any stone unturned, she seemed to think of everything, going as far as to raid the cupboards for snacks, which was a little ridiculous in Stan's mind, but it seemed to make sense to her. Ford was the same way, he packed the car, continuously ignoring Stan when he tried to help. That stung a bit, but he knew it was just because Ford didn't want him to hurt himself further.

Stan sighed as he leaned against the side of the StanleyMobile. Both of them seemed so upset when they saw his black and blue torso, and it filled him with guilt. It didn't really hurt all that much, considering. Sure, this was the worst it had ever gotten, and it hurt to breathe, but so what? Now everyone was...was taking care of _him_ and that just felt wrong. Like the natural order of the world had reversed itself.

Something else bothered him too. The way Ma seemed so willing just to drop her own husband like that. That and the way she seemed less remorseful and was more angry than anything else. That was weird. Stan looked up as he heard footsteps from the house and saw both his brother and his Ma coming out carrying the last of whatever they thought they needed. Stan looked away when they walked over, staring at his feet, arms crossed even though it hurt to keep them like that. Ford whispered to him as he put the last of the things in, shutting the trunk of the car.

"Are you ready?" Ford nudge his forearm when he didn't answer. Stan huffed.

"This is ridiculous. Can't we just, I dunno, call the cops?" Stan growled. He didn't like any of this. Where were they even going to stay?! Ford scoffed,

"First off, I never thought _you_ would say that. Secondly, no. Fibrick would just deny it. They might believe us, they might not. We have no proof other than your-your injuries Stanley. Unfortunately, you are 'delinquent' with a reputation for getting into fights. Often. Even if we did pin him for it, there is always bail. Then it would all be out and...that would not be good. Stanley, please, I just want you to be safe." Ford looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Please, for me?" He begged. Stan stared him down for a moment before giving in with a sigh.

"Fine, just where are we even gonna go? Can't he just follow us?" Stan muttered as he headed toward the driver's seat. Ma glared at him.

"You, young man, are not driving in your state. No- I don't care if it's your car. I am perfectly capable of driving my boys. Now get in." She shot down his argument before it began and Stan, despite his frown, was internally grateful. He was _tired._ He slid into the backseat instead and Ford followed him, sacrificing the front seat to sit with each other. Ford answered his question after they settled in.

"Strength in numbers. Ma and I already decided we're going to Shermie's. He'll let us stay there after we explain. Dad wouldn't dare try and intimidate all of us. We'll figure the rest out on the way." Ford explained and Stan grunted, unable to think of a reason to disagree. He missed his older brother anyway, they were do for a visit, even if it was under the worst of circumstances.

They quieted for a while, and Ford clasped onto Stan's hand. Whether for his own comfort or Stan's, Stan wasn't sure. After about ten minutes on the road, Stan voiced something that was bothering him.

"Why?" Stan's voice was deep and more like it's usual self, but still filled with strain and confusion. Ford cocked a brow and frowned.

"What?"

Stan looked at Ford than to Ma, who was listening in. "What do you mean, why, Stanley?" She asked, eyes still trained on the road. She was wearing one of her more comfortable dresses and seemed to still be tense from agitation and anger.

Stan looked at her from his seat in the back, staring at her eyes in the rear-view mirror.

"Why'd ya drop your own husband so fast? Why did ya believe me so fast? I didn't think-"

"Oh, Stanley." She interrupted. "I never really loved your Father. He was always emotionless. Our dates were so cliche, I'm pretty sure the only thing he knew about romance was from the newspaper. Which is the only thing he ever reads. I married Fibrick because I needed to. What, with being an only child with no prospects, I mean, I con-people for a living sweat-heart. I wasn't asking for much from life. Filbrick offered a home and I got you three. That's all I needed." She smiled sadly at the mirror before returning her attention to the traffic.

Stan and Ford both stilled. Ma wasn't one to talk about her past like most parents did. She never talked about how she and Filbrick met or anything from her own childhood, really this wasn't too far from what they expected. It was still a little jarring to hear that their own mother had such a lonely life that she would marry a robot for a crappy roof over her head.

She wasn't alone anymore, which was a slight comfort to them both. She deserved better, but they weren't magicians. Stan sighed, satisfied for the moment, although he noticed Ford still looked curious. He fought the need to laugh. (Because doing even that was painful.) Poindexter never seemed to run out of questions.

Shermie's house wasn't too far. As far as they knew, he lived alone in a small house. Not too small, large enough to accommodate them all on Thanksgiving, but it was a little way out of state. They were in for a road trip. Stan let his head fall onto Ford's shoulder and smiled when Ford rested his head on Stan's. They both drifted to sleep slowly. The emotional and physical exhaustion they were both feeling finally catching up with them.

Gigi smiled. Life could throw whatever they wanted at them, but she had peace in her heart to know that they would always have each other to lean on.

Her smile fell and she sighed. Just hold on, it will all work out. Eventually.

Eventually.

* * *

 **I'm...sorry? Was this bad? I'm sorry anyway.**


	4. Thinking

**So...I know it's been awhile. And this is probably the last thing I'm going to write before I leave for another week...sorry about that. Anyway, on with the fic:  
**

* * *

Stan woke up to a glaring light shining from the car window. It was morning. He groaned as he sat up. He had been leaning against his brother, and Ford, still asleep, shifted as Stan moved away. Stan noted his mother, head propped up against the steering wheel as she slept. _Must have pulled over to get some rest. Good. She shouldn't be pulling all-nighters anyway._

Stan tried to stretch and whimpered as he recalled the extensive bruising. It certainly didn't try to hide its presence. Making sure he didn't wake up the others, Stan quietly opened the door and stepped outside.

They were on the side of a country road, parked in the grass as not to disturb traffic. Stan relished in the clean air as he stepped out and walked around. So what if he couldn't stretch his arms? His legs needed exercise too. After a moment he sat and let his head fall to the ground. He rarely got out of that stupid town, and it was a relief every time he did. He and Ford still held on strong to the idea of sailing away, even if it seemed less plausible now that they were older.

Stan knew that sailing on the boat they worked on their entire lives might as well be suicide, it wasn't likely to ever be seaworthy. He hadn't seen any reason to abandon the dream, however. He just...modified it. Instead, he saw himself getting a job, saving bit by bit until they had enough to buy a real boat, something that could weather the storms and carry all the supplies they needed. He saw him and his brother having adventures, exploring and learning about the world together.

Yet, at the moment, it all seemed so very far away.

In one night, one moment of weakness, he had let his darkest secret slip. Stan had been 'punished' for years by his father. Whether it be his bad grades or something he said or did, Filbrick was merciless and unrelenting. It didn't help Stan could never get his grades up, considering Filbrick refused to buy him glasses after the first two pairs were busted.

Ford didn't think he needed glasses. Stan always said they were for nerds.

Pushing the thoughts away, Stan stood up again. He winced as his entire torso screamed in agony at the simple movements. He had gotten used to the feeling over the years, but this had to be the worsed beating he had ever received. The reason he had been punished that night, was because of the day before...

 _"Hey! Look! Look at his hands!" Ford and he were both working in the shop. They had never been paid to do so, but it kept their father happy. Ford looked up as a customer, a man, snickered at his extra fingers. Ford hid them quickly, and Stan began walking over from the other side of the shop, trying his best not to knock anything over in the process, the place was set up like a mine-field._

 _"Whatcha hidin' for, freak?" The man sneered. Ford wasn't even sure why the man was in the lowly pawnshop unless he was trying to sell something. Something that probably wasn't his to sell in the first place. Ford moved away, face towards the floor in embarrassment. It had been years since Ford cowed to the many bullies at school. Stan had taught him well in standing up for himself, but this-this was an adult. A man three times his scrawny size and with the faint smell of beer on his breath. Ford wasn't dumb enough to try and scare this man away._

 _The man stepped closer and Ford ended up against the wall, unable to run as the man grabbed his shirt, obviously looking for something to vent on, which just happened to be Ford. Ford's eyes flew wide open and his heart picked up speed in fear._

 _"I said, whatcha hidin' for?!" The man moved to grab one of his hands, and Ford didn't get the chance to do anything before Stan finally made it over and pushed the man off Ford, who fell to the ground with a huff._

 _"Hey!" Stan growled, "You stay off 'im. Ya, hear?!" Stan got right up in the man's face, not even seeming to notice the height difference. The man glared down at him in rage._

"And what are ya gonna do about it?!" The man taunted, Stan wrinkled his nose as the man blew his onion, beer breath right onto his face. Stan had to fight to keep his eyes from watering and hold his stance,

 _"I'm gonna send you to all the way to Tokyo with a shoe stuck up your butt, that's what!" Stan threatened through gritted teeth, you could practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves. Ford tried to intervene, but that's when the man decided to gang back on him, and Stan had to push the man away again before Ford got decked in the face. That's when it turned into an all-out fist fight._

 _When the fight began, it was obvious the man had relied on his large stature to intimidate, because he had no skill in hand to hand combat. Stan, however, was school boxing champion, the only reward he'd ever won, and had the man running out of the shop in no time, with a broken nose and two black eyes._

 _That's when Filbrick decided to return, coming back from his break. He had been upstairs in the house and had only seen the last bit of the scuffle. Stan knew he was in for a beating when his eyes met Filbricks angry gaze. He didn't say anything in front of Ford, he never did. But Stan knew, he always knew._

 _Ford dragged him away to the bathroom to clean up his wounds and fussed over him incessantly, but Stan wasn't really listening, a pit of dread boiling up in his stomach._

Stan sighed. It had only been the other night, but it felt like forever ago. Things had intensified from there so quickly, he hadn't seen it coming. He did his best to shake off the thoughts as he slid back into the car, waking up Ford in the process.

"Hmm? Is it morning?" Ford mumbled, he blinked awake with a yawn. Stan laughed, a tense smile spread across his features. The same features Ford had.

"No, it's the middle of the night, but the sun got bored and decided to talk to the moon awhile," Stan stated sarcastically. Ford snorted.

"The sun doesn't have _feelings,_ Stanley."

"Only as far as _you_ know."

They kept on there little banter, keeping it light for the moment. Neither wanted to dwell on what was happening, what _had_ happened. Their sibling bickering woke up Gigi and she laughed under her breath before starting up the car again. She needed to get these two home.

Home. What a complicated word. She wasn't even sure if Shermie would let them stay at his 'home.' She sighed. _Let's go find out, shall we?_ She thought as she shifted the car into drive and pulled onto the road. Stan and Ford didn't stop there back and forth for even a moment as she drove.

* * *

 **This really isn't my best writing...sorry about that. This entire story really isn't...but I hope your enjoying it anyway! I thought some background would be good...it's kinda filler, but ya'll enjoy that, right?! RIGHT?! WRITING IS SO HARD! *Deep breath* Don't worry, next chapter we'll meet the third brother! Yay!**


	5. Hope

**Hi. Hello. Let's go!  
**

* * *

Saying that Stan was nervous was an understatement.

They had driven all the way out over the state line into Pennsylvania. It had taken several days, but they had finally made it to Shermie's home. Shermie owned a comfortable home on a patch of land out in the middle of nowhere which was a little too lonely for Stan and just right for Ford, especially after considering the library only two miles away. Although, it wasn't the landscape that bothered him.

What on earth was Shermie going to think? Stan was sure he had no idea about...Filbrick's ventures. Shermie never gave dad a good reason to use _him_ as a punching bag. Ford may have been the perfect scholar, but Shermie was the perfect son. Yet, he did the leave the house as soon as he turned eighteen, so maybe he did know something.

Just the thought made Stan's stomach flip in fear.

Ford was asleep on his shoulder, and Stan shifted in his seat as they pulled into the driveway. Ford blinked awake, eyes wide as he tried to clear the fog of sleep from his mind. "Hmm? What's goin' on?" Stan stifled a snicker.

"Good morning sunshine. We're here." Stan teased, ruffling Fords hair as Ford yawned. "Aw, your so cute when you're tired."

Had Ford been any more awake, he might have just blushed and let his insecurities keep him silent. Instead, he actually voiced his comeback, something that Stan had taught him to do more often. Ford wasn't bad with words, he just got too embarrassed to fight with them. It took Stan years to get Ford to fight his bullies at school with the witty snapbacks Stan knew were brewing up in that brain of his.

"If I'm cute when I'm tired, then you must be adorable. Seeing as how you keep bragging about being the 'hotter twin' an' all." Ford pushed Stan's arm away, and Stan laughed again.

"Heck yeah! I make all the ladies swoon." Stan joked as he undid the seatbelt. Ford rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, swoon right into a lake of boiling water. And just to get away from you!" Ford looked more awake now and grinned when Stan chuckled harder, although his grin faded when a pained look escaped Stan's careful poker face. Just because laughing hurt, didn't mean Stan still didn't enjoy it. Unfortunately, that's when Stan started coughing. Hard.

Ford was up in a flash, eyes wide awake and slightly panicked as he tried to think of what to do. His eyes flickered to the front seat where their mother should have been, but she was outside, walking up the steps to the front door.

Stan was still hacking, and Ford was too afraid to try and rub his back, worried about making it worse and agitating the bruises. Instead, he dove to the back of the car and pushed things around until he found a water bottle. He pulled himself back up into the front where Stan was mostly just clearing his throat. Ford's brow was furrowed in concern as he handed the bottle over to a grateful looking Stan.

"Are you alright?" Ford shook his head. "Idiotic question, will you be alright? What happened? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you laugh yourself into a coughing fit!" Ford was starting to talk faster and faster as Stan didn't answer and Stan had to hold up his hand to get him to stop.

Taking a long sip from the bottle, Stan sighed and wiped his arm across his mouth. "I'm fine Ford, it was just coughing. People do that sometimes, ya know?" Stan smiled through his teeth.

In reality, the bruises were killing him. He used all he had to keep from groaning after he could finally breathe properly. He didn't need to freak out Ford any more than he already had. Stan internally scowled when Ford looked strangely unconvinced.

"Stan, please stop lying. It's okay to be in pain you know. You taught me that."

It was true, Ford would do the same thing he was doing when they were younger. Try and tough it out, hold back the tears as Stan's tiny fingers tried to bandage up Ford's busted face. Stan would tell him it was just Stan. Just Stanley. That it was okay to cry. Ford would nod. Sometimes he took the advice and they would go snitch candies from the cupboard in the middle of the night. Sometimes he wouldn't, and that was okay with Stan because it meant that Ford wasn't feeling too bad.

It wasn't usually the physical injuries that really bothered them. Candy was for the especially hard nights.

Stan sighed when he thought about those younger days. Those days, it had been easy to ride off the occasional hand-shaped mark on his back or shoulder. Stan looked up into Ford's eyes, which were still filled with concern and Stan gave him a small smile. _I hear you. Doesn't mean I'm gonna take my own advice though. No matter how great it is._

"We should probably go and say hi. Maybe help mom come up for a good con as to why we're here without a pumpkin pie." Stan's grin widened and Ford rolled his eye again but gave Stan a small smile in return. Ford gave him a strange look though as they stepped out of the car.

"What, got somethin' on my face?" Stan asked curiously. Ford looked like he was steeling himself up for something.

"We're not lying to Shermie, Ley. Not about this."

Stan froze. Maybe it was obvious, maybe he should have expected it, but Stan was hating this with every fiber of his being.

Did they _have_ to tell everyone just how much of a pathetic screw-up he was? Ford watched his reaction with a concerned eye, but Stan ignored it. He turned away, doing his best to keep on his poker face. _The world is a stage, now play your part. You don't cry and you especially don't have break-downs. Get it together Pines!_ Stan turned back around and nodded.

"Okay."

Ford looked relieved and...confused, but went along with it. If Stan wasn't going to fight on it, then Ford wasn't going to either. He quickly stepped out of the car and went around to open Stan's door. Stan- stubborn as ever, was already out, waiting. Ford rolled his eyes.

"You know I was going to get that for you."

Stan smirked, "I know, I know. C'mon," Stan looked over at the door, where their Mother was waiting expectantly for them and if one looked closely you could see the determined glint that had settled in his eyes. "let's get this over with."

Ford held up a six-fingered hand and Stan's eyes softened a bit as he gave his twin a high-six.

"It will be okay Stanley, whatever happens, we'll face it together." Ford smiled at him and made his way to the door.

Smiling, Stan followed, ignoring the jagged jolts of pain as he walked prefering to focus on the swelling of hope in his chest. Maybe everything would be okay after all.

* * *

 **I LIED! Again! I can't seem to just GO FORWARD FROM THESE STUPID CAR SCENES! Ugh. I've actually had this in my doc manager for a REALLY long time, but I just now finished it and so I hope it makes sense...hehe. Anyway, we really will be meeting Shermie next chapter- I can't really avoid it any longer, can I?**

 **Stan: Nope.**

 **Ford: I hate you.**

 **Stan: ...me?**

 **Ford: No, of course not you! This demon who keeps hurting you!**

 **Stan: ...it's a story, Ford.**

 **Ford *pulls out gun*: NOTHING IS FICTION IN THE MULTI-VERSE *shoots me dead***

 **Me: Ack...I deserved that.**


	6. Suspicion

**Ayyye!  
**

* * *

Stan and Ford barely made it to the door before it swung open, revealing a small woman with long black hair.

"Hello! And who are you three?" The lady asked politely with a small smile.

Stan wanted to ask who the heck _she_ was and why she was in their brother's house, yet Gigi spoke before he could get a word out.

"Hello, my dear. I am Gigi Pines and these are my twin boys, Stanley and Stanford. Does a Sherman Pines happen to reside here?"

The lady's eyes widened in realization and she laughed. "Oh! You're his family! Of course, I should have realized. Come in, Come in! I'll go grab him." She turned, her hair swaying as she made her way to another part of the house.

Stan and Ford shared a glance and hesitantly followed their mom into the living room.

"Do you think that's his girlfriend?" Stan whispered, feeling strangely out of place in the normally welcoming house.

Ford deliberated it for the moment and shrugged. "I can think of only four reasons why she would be here, so that makes the possibility of her being his partner at about 25%. Probably more since that seems to be the most likely of outcomes."

Stan stared at him. Ford glanced behind him. "What?"

"You are a huge nerd."

Before Ford could answer, the lady returned, a man in tow. Stan immediately perked up and went over to crush him in a bear hug. Gigi and Ford gasped- it must have hurt, but Shermie and Stan were both laughing.

"Stanley! Mom! Ford! What are you three troublemakers doing here?!" Shermie asked, a little breathy once Stan released him, but grinning.

Shermie was slightly taller than all three of them. He had the same curly brown hair and a large nose. The only difference other than his height was his bright blue eyes. Stan and Ford got their soft brown eyes from Gigi, but Shermie had his father's eyes. Not that anyone could really confirm that. He never took those glasses off.

Gigi's smile faltered for a moment, but it quickly returned to normal. "Well before we get to that, who is this lovely lady over here? You've failed to introduce us!"

Shermie glanced to the girl in question and blinked. "Oh! Oh freak, I'm sorry Amelia, I thought they already knew you! Everyone, this is my girlfriend-"

"Hah- knew it" Stan huffed, Ford had to stop himself from elbowing him.

"Amelia. And Amelia, this is my family." He gestured to all three of them with a large hand and she waved shyly before his brow furrowed in confusion.

"So what are you three doing here? Where's Dad?"

They all stiffened. Before Ford or Gigi could say anything, Stan laughed it off.

"We missed you, bro! Dad's at the shop, always busy, ya know?" After brushing the non-existent dirt off his shirt, Stan placed his hands on his hips and grinned. "You don't mind, right? We can always go back, or rent a hotel I guess..." Stan pretending to consider they're options, but Shermie quickly shook his head,

"No, no! I'm just so happy you're here! Of course, you can stay!" Shermie glanced at Amelia with wide begging eyes. "They can stay, right?"

Amelia giggled and lightly slapped his shoulder, "Of course, silly! It's you're house!" Shermie grinned toothily and his eyes sparkled with excitement as he gestured to the kitchen.

"Breakfast, anyone?"

Both Stan and Ford lagged behind as the others entered the kitchen, Stan looking guilty. Ford sighed.

"Stanley, what were you thinking?" Ford gave him a stern glare, "We have to tell him eventually!"

Stan shrugged, which made Ford wince, but Stan didn't seem to feel it. "I wasn't expecting that girl here, Ford! We don't need to unload our family issues right now! Anyway, I wanted to be happy for a while." Stan mumbled under his breath, "For things to be normal..."

Ford's sternness melted away and he forced his hands into his pockets with a sigh. "I guess I can understand that..." Ford's eyes flickered to the kitchen, where everyone was waiting for them.

"Alright Stan, we won't do it tonight, but it has to happen soon, okay?" Ford bit his lip as he waited for a reply.

Stan was looking through the doorway. His mother was staring at him with those knowing eyes of hers and Stan sighed as he hooked an arm around Ford's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Poindexter."

...

Shermie smiled on the outside as he played host to his family, but his thoughts were raging within his mind. Everyone was acting strange and father wasn't there...

What was going on?

* * *

 **Yayayayay. Stan avoiding the truth again!**

 **Stan: Yay!**

 **Ford: NO!**

 **WHY IS THE MOON TRYING TO EAT ME. As always, too lazy to proof-read. Hope it makes sense.**


	7. Concern

**So. Um...hi. Writing this on my phone so forgive any errors. (BTW I REREAD ALL YOUR REVIEWS YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET THANK YOU-)**

 **NOT PROOFREAD. eh. You guys suffered through the other chapters. I reread those too. Man, there was whole _words_ missing and no one mentioned it.**

 **Edit: Literally almost nothing. I noticed Stan sighed twice in the first two sentences so I fixed it 'cuz it bothered me. (YOUR GUY'S REVIEWS KEEP ME GOING THIS IS AMAZING I CAN'T BELIEVE ANYONE STILL CARES ABOUT THIS STORY-)**

* * *

Shermie still didn't know.

The door shut with a soft click and Stan sighed as he pulled away. He stared at his feet as he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. Turning, he padded quietly towards the kitchen, flicking on the light. He blinked as an almost blue light lit up the room. He didn't grab anything to eat as he slumped into one of the kitchen chairs, his head spinning with thoughts he couldn't seem to get in order.

Amelia was a really nice girl. She was kind and hardworking and beautiful in her own way. He was proud of Shermie for finding and managing to keep a catch like her this long. Although she was a bit quiet, she laughed at all of Stan's jokes, so at least she had a good sense of humor.

Stan couldn't help wondering how she would react. How her perception of him would change once she knew how...how he'd failed.

 _You didn't fail, he did._

Stiffening, he shook his head as a voice that sounded suspiciously like their mother rang through his head. Okay, sure, their dad was a jerk, but he had still failed. He couldn't keep it a secret. He'd been weak.

 _Weak, pathetic._ His father's spitting words made him shrink back into the chair, his arms going over his head. He ran his hands down his face and groaned. This was not something he wanted to deal with at the moment. He had more important problems than his neglected self-esteem. He settled his head on the table and tried to focus. How was he going to tell them? Tell Shermie?

How was he going to tell the truth?

It wasn't exactly something he had ever been good at. At some point, his mother had teased him for being better than her, when he managed to run one of her 'psychic' phone calls without a single hitch. Lying was easy. Lying was giving people what they wanted.

Sometimes, lying is what people needed.

Oh, how he wished he could lie his way out of this one. He knew he couldn't, however, not with this. He could make light of it, joke around and make it seem better than it was, but he couldn't lie. As soon as Ford glanced the bruise on his shoulder, that route had completely dissipated from his radar.

"Stanley?"

Stan jumped, making the chair squeak against the tile. Shermie raised a questioning brow and pulled out a chair for himself on the other side of the table. "What are you doing up?" He asked with a small smile as he sat down.

Stan stared at him blankly for a moment before letting his head fall with a _thud_ unto the table. Shermie gave him a look as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. He quickly reached out and rustled Stan's hair.

"Heh, I'm not sure what to do with that, bro." Shermie stood up again and stepped toward the fridge. "Well, I can tell you why I'm up. Amelia snores like _a bear._ I love her, but It's unnatural and very loud." Shermie snorted. "You think I would've gotten used to it by now." He pulled open the fridge door and brought out a jug of milk.

"Anyway, I thought I'd grab something to drink. Want any?" He shook the gallon of milk tantalizingly. Or as tantalizing as a jug of milk could get. Stan rolled his head to the side to give Shermie a scrutinizing glare out of one eye before lifting his head off the table.

"Yeah, sure. Can't hurt." He leaned back into his seat as Shermie grinned at him.

"Ah, there we go. The shadow of the night _does_ speak. And why might this all mighty demon be haunting me at this hour?" As he spoke, he inspected a pot before deeming it safe for use. He set it on the stove and poured in a decent amount of milk.

"Oh, so I'm a demon now." Stan couldn't help but laugh once. "Last time I was here I thought I was the Cheshire cat." He grinned as wide as he could, and Shermie chuckled.

"That's hasn't changed. You're just a demonic version. Like in that horror spoof of Alice and Wonderland." Shermie opened up the cupboard above his head and pulled out a can. Stan had to squint to read the label. His smile was slightly more genuine.

Hot chocolate, in the middle of summer? What on earth was Shermie thinking? He smirked.

"So, you _are_ still drinking cocoa in the middle of the hottest season of the year." He gestured loosely towards the can on the counter and Shermie shrugged.

"What can I say, I have good taste." He cracked off the lid with a grin and pulled out two mugs from the neighboring cupboard. "I know you want some."

Stan pretending to think about it for a minute, crossing his arms, before laughing. "Heck yeah, I do. Just don't tell Stanford." His eyes glittered mischievously. "You know how horrible his sweet tooth it. He wouldn't even wait to boil any water _or_ milk before just straight up eating the powder."

Shermie's face fell into false seriousness. "I don't know how he does it. Didn't we catch him eating straight coffee beans once?" He turned off the stove as the milk started bubbling. Stan chuckled softly.

"Heh, yeah. I think that was during finals two years ago or somethin'. Man, I hated middle school." Stan held his head, on one hand, his elbow resting on the table. Stan's smile fell and he stared unseeingly at the other wall. Shermie watched him zone out with a small frown. He thought maybe he'd done a good job distracting Stan, but he supposed Stan was caught up in his own thoughts tonight. With smooth, practiced (he really loved cocoa) movements, Shermie topped off the mugs and brought them slowly to the table, setting one in front of Stan before sitting down.

"Stanley?" Shermie snapped his fingers and Stan blinked.

"Hmm. Oh! Thanks." He picked up the mug by his hand and took a long hard gulp. Shermie's brow furrowed in concern. It was scalding hot, how on earth!?

"Um, Stan, are you okay?" Shermie took a careful sip of his own drink. "I mean, did you even _feel_ that!?" He folded his hands around his mug. "Why are you up?" He leveled his eyes earnestly at Stan and Stan seemed to shrink back as he waited for an answer.

Stan stared at him with wide eyes and laughed nervously. "Um. Couldn't sleep."

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Stan lifted his mug back to his lips and gulped again before answering. He sighed bitterly, turning away. "Not exactly." He grumbled. Shermie's eyes softened.

"C'mon Stanley. You can tell me anything you know." He smiled softly as he crossed his heart. "See? I'm like a vault." Shermie smirked. "A chamber of secrets!" His smirk blew into a grin and Stanley huffed with amusement.

"Haha, Harry Potter, yeah I get it. That might actually be the only fiction book Ford's ever read. Other than the one guy, Tolkien? I dunno."

"You're getting away from the topic." Shermie gave him a knowing look and Stan huffed.

"Yeah, I'm just great at that." His face fell again and Shermie frowned.

"Please, Stanley? I can't help if you won't tell me." Shermie ran a hand over his chin. "Does Ford know?"

Stan nodded and his eyes seem to grow more grievous. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Unfortunately..." He mumbled. Shermie seemed to contemplate something.

"So it isn't a nightmare?" He asked. Stan glared at him suspiciously.

"What are you playing at? Twenty questions?"

Shermie shrugged. "Do you _want_ to play twenty questions? You still haven't told me what's wrong."

Stan pushed his mug away and set his head into his arms on the table. He bit his lip. Shermie needed to know. They wouldn't have a place to stay after the next few days if he didn't say anything. He felt nauseous just thinking about it.

He'd caused so much trouble. He'd failed his family and he was going to do it again if he didn't say something.

He didn't look up as he whispered. "Shermie...what do you think of dad?" Stan glanced up once to see his reaction before burying his head again.

Shermie blinked in shock. That wasn't what he was expecting. He thought about it for a moment. "Oh. Well, I guess he can be a bit harsh, but he seemed to care, even if it was _deep, deep_ down. Why?"

Stan groaned internally in relief. Shermie had been safe. Shermie was safe. It was only Stan...

Only Stan Filbrick ever really hated. He sighed and cleared his throat. Alright, so Shermie didn't know. That was a good thing.

 _It's like a bandage. Just rip it off._

"Shermie...how long can we stay here?" Stan asked, swallowing. Shermie straightened up seriously.

"As long as you want." He smiled, but his brow was still scrunched in concern. "I missed you guys. Stanley, what does this have to do with anything?"

Stan coughed. "Um. I didn't want to tell you this in front of your girlfriend..." He looked up and bit his lip. He didn't know why this was so hard now. He managed to just _say_ it to his mom.

Of course, he'd still been in shock when that happened. It was easy telling someone he trusted something like that when his mind was still trying to figure out what the frack had just happened.

"We left the house and...and Pa. For good." Stan waited to gauge Shermie's reaction and continued to bite his lip as he waited.

Shermie's face blanked with surprise for a moment before a shadow fell over his features and his eyes seem to grow darker, like a powerful ocean storm. Shermie growled,

"What did _Filbrick do?"  
_

* * *

 **MUAHAHAHA. I AM THE EVIL. MWHAHAHA.**

 **Guys, this guest who keeps commenting on my old stories, bless you good person, (I LOVE IT WHEN YOU GUYS DO THAT) understands my humor. Like they thought it was funny that I was drunk on Tumblr and popsicles. NO ONE ELSE MENTIONED THAT- XD**

 **I WAS WORKING ON THIS STORY WHEN I GOT A REVIEW ON IT. After _weeks_ of no reviews. Same thing for colors and matches. Sorry for the slow updating on this...I've been working on other things, and those have been updated super slow too, but I'm not abandoning! I swear! I was held captive by an anti-writing fairy called Life. She is very rude. But unfortunately I was not strong enough to overcome her and now I must bend to her will. **

**Hey! Don't die, have some cake for me and please enjoy this installment I totally left on a cliffhanger on purpose.**

 **Idk if anything makes sense anymore.**


	8. Anger, the Sherman version

**So...I realize that the way I write this story, just the way it flows, and all the grammar errors? Ugh. You guys must be here for the plot because this is _not_ well written _at all._ Tbh not sure where the storm came from. Also I was too lazy to reread the other chapters before writing this so if it's inconsistent...yeah.  
**

* * *

He didn't get it.

Stan held his shirt in his hands, running his thumb over the worn fabric before quickly slipping it back on. Why would Shermie just storm out like that? Sure, it wasn't the best news, and obviously, everyone thought it was a huge deal, but Stan really didn't get it.

 _It's not like I'm worth the attention anyway._

Stan had watched on as something clicked behind Sherman's eyes and he'd stomped out. He flinched as the door slammed shut behind Shermie's retreating form, thunder booming overhead in tandem with the door's bang.

He sat stiffly at the table as he waited for Shermie to return, eyes staring glazed out the window, following the rain that ran down the glass pane.

...

Shermie wasn't exactly sure how to feel. On one hand, he was being torn up with guilt, an almost overwhelming feeling constricting his ability to breathe properly as he ran out of the kitchen and towards the front door. On the other- anger was burning in his very soul, making even his limbs tremble.

How could he have never noticed? Seen the signs? He had lived in that house for _eighteen years._ He was six years older than both Stanley and Stanford! Surely he would have been old enough, perceptive enough to see that they weren't okay!? His brothers had been breaking and yet he did nothing to stop it- he didn't even have an inkling of it happening. Filbrick was tough on them all, but _hitting the twins!?_ That wasn't- no, that wasn't right.

Wait.

Shermie stood on his porch, blinking as rain fell into his eyes, running down his face like the tears he couldn't shed. Stanley, Stanley never said _anything_ about Ford being hurt. His brow furrowed, making the water run down his nose. It didn't seem like Stanley, to let Ford get hurt. Even by their own father. He seethed, leaning back onto the door behind him as he rubbed at his eyes, his finger tips gripping unto his now wet hair.

Bad was the fact that Filbrick had been hitting his brothers...but worse it was if it had only been, been Stanley...

Shermie knew his brothers well. They were an unstoppable duo, adventurers and side by side until the end.

Except.

Stanley was _protective_ in all caps. It was in his very soul. Shermie saw it constantly. Stanley looked outward at the good in the world and would lie down his life to protect it. The good being his family. Shermie had to stop Stanley from attacking a boy at school when Shermie was still in elementary with them {They only attended the same school for a year before Sherman graduated to the horror of middle school.}. The boy probably deserved a beating for the things he said to Sherm, but certainly not from Stan, who was half the size and twice as feisty as Shermie's bully.

If Stanley thought...that hiding _this_ would protect them...

Shermie had to wonder how Ford ever got him to confess. It had to be Ford- no one else was as important to Stan.

But of course, this was all speculation. He had been far too angry to sit and ask for details, storming out into the storm {haha that was funny, right? Just me? I'll leave.} before Stanley could tell him much of anything. Shermie jumped slightly as lighting struck just a little ways away, the resounding boom vibrating in his chest. He took in a steadying breath and turned to push open the door again, rubbing the water out of his face and hair.

Stanley was sitting patiently at the table, staring out into the rain. Shermie was slightly relieved to see his shirt was back on. Those bruises were hard to look at-

"Stanley?"

Stan jerked out of his trance and turned towards him. He saw Stan relax slightly when he glanced up to see it was only Shermie. Stan slumped over the table again, holding his drink in both hands. "Hey bro. Um, are you done? With ah- whatever that was?"

Shermie snorted, despite the rage that still boiled inside of him. "Yeah, I'm done with whatever that was." He forced a small grin and Stan just stared at him blankly for a moment.

"Don't force it, Sherm. Honestly the fake smile doesn't look good on you." Stan muttered, taking another gulp of his cocoa. Shermie's smile fell.

"Don't be a hypocrite Stanley."

"Don't try and steal my bit." Stan retorted.

Shermie rolled his eyes, even though the words stung. Did that mean Stanley's smiles were never- when were they ever, real? Shermie sat down with a sigh, picking up his own drink. It seemed even warmer than before, now that he was cold and wet. They sat in silence for a moment, water steadily dripping to the floor off of Shermie.

Shermie looked up in alarm when Stanley suddenly choked on a sob, burying in head in his arms. Shermie shot up and stepped towards him in concern.

"Stanley!"

Stan sniffed. "I failed, Sherm. I couldn't..." Stan's breath hitched and he cut himself off. Shermie rubbed his back soothingly, but softly, kneeling down beside his brother.

"Stanley, you haven't failed anything. No one is to blame here expect that- that _failure_ of a father." Shermie spat the word out like an expletive, glaring at the table, as if were somehow responsible for his father's cruelty.

Stanley took a moment and breathed in deep before sitting up, making Shermie's hand fall away. Stan rubbed at his eyes and yawned.

"You should go back to bed, Stan." Shermie advised, picking up the now empty mugs and walking over to set them in the sink. He turned back to Stan, who was now standing up. Shermie winced. He could only imagine how Stanley ached.

Stan hummed. "Yeah." He looked up at Shermie was a dazzlingly bright smile that was almost hard to look at. "Thanks for the drink bro!" the smile fell slightly. "thanks for letting them stay."

Shermie was shocked to see the smile, the same smile he'd seen so many times, but he shook off the thought and gave Stanley a true smile in return. "Not just them, Stan. You can stay here for as long as you need. I'm not going to leave you alone to deal with this." Shermie opened up his arms and engulfed Stan in a hug. It wasn't nearly as tight as the one that morning, but the sentiment was still there.

"It's going to be okay, Stanley." Shermie let him go and Stan sighed deeply before giving him the flash of a _genuine_ smile before walking slowly back to bed. Shermie watched him leave with sad eyes and a heavy heart.

No one deserved this- least of all his big hearted brother. Shermie slowly made his way back to his own room, settling in for the night. Amelia shifted at his side and he curled his arm around her as he stared into the darkness, mind whirring.

They all needed to talk- and it wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

 **You guys can thank Abbyswancullen for this chapter! Man I've been putting so many stories off-**

 **Stan: Wait, aren't you plannin' on makin' _another_ story!? **

**Ford: Shh! Don't spoil it!**

 **Stan: But- it's so SAD!**

 **Ford: SHHHHH.**

 **Stan: AND IT'S ALL ABBYS-**

 **Ford: SHUT. UP. STANLEY.**

 **Me: Hehe, thanks Ford. Anyway, sorry this chapter is short and kinda sucked, I woke up thinking I would have a free day off from like- life! But then my friend comes up and tells me she double booked herself- so I took over one of her things for today along with my own stuff, idk man life gets wild when I least expect it.**


End file.
